The Rise And Fall of Marcus Reeves and The Shameless Plugs from Streatham Hill

At the time of writing, I should be doing the Charleston. Let me elucidate (gosh what a big word for a five foot seven part time tranny)…

In just a few short weeks I will be celebrating my thirtieth birthday and will mark it by looking back at what where I’ve been in my little-legged life so far, in the form of my new solo show, three zero. The piece is a sort of ‘introspective retrospective’, featuring highlights from all my solo shows so far, from my first play with songs, Cut Out and Keep… which told the story of my mother’s family, to the drama behind the scenes of my infamous flop musical Postcards from God via some poems and songs new and old.

Stuart Burrows, who directs and choreographs the London Gay Mens Chorus amongst other things has kindly taken me under his wing and is choreographing one of the sections. Me dancing doesn’t happen much (unless I’m a little ‘jolly’) and I’ve never ever done it on stage, so it was one of the challenges I set myself when I started work on the show.

The premiere will take place at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern, where I’ve spent many a drunken and disgraceful night and I will be joined by some friends old and new, all of them favourites of mine – bearded ladies Timberlina and Le Gateau Chocolat, scrumptious pop art munchkin Dickie Beau and one of my all-time heroes Clementine The Living Fashion Doll. All rounded off with a soundtrack from my friends DJ Sina Evil and Ian Aitch. After all that I will probably fall over in a great heap and have to be carried home on a stretcher.

But before any dancing, drinking or falling over, I have allowed myself one treat for the month – the latest event from the one man powerhouse that is Rupert Smith AKA the House of Homosexual Culture.

I’ve already enjoyed Julian Clary’s induction into the HOHC Hall of fame (where he ate Paul Burston alive), had fabulous fun at their Quentin Crisp do and of course crowned my Christmas by doing a festive turn at their yuletide cabaret in the Clore Ballroom (marred only by falling asleep and leaving my very valuable Christmas Tree costume on the night bus afterwards. Ouch.).

Next up is an audience with Leee Black Childers. Who? I hear you ask. Heathen! I first came across Leee (so to speak) during my formative teenage years spent not doing my GCSE homework and reading any and every Bowie biography I could get my podgy little hands upon. He witnessed Warhol’s milieu (I must stop using all these posh words) first hand, photographing the gay underside of glam and punk rock culture and immersing himself elbow deep. He’s promised a few saucy anecdotes – I for one am waiting to find out whether Bowie really was all talk when it came to ‘Sweet Head’ and what really happened at the Stonewall riots – was it as anarchic and revolutionary as popular history claims, or are the accounts that I’ve heard true, where blood was shed, but not as much as you’d think – and not a lot really ‘went down’?

Rather like Rupert’s Holly Woodlawn event at the Drill Hall, I can’t turn down the opportunity to bask in the glow of an icon and will be there with bells on (though not Christmas ones - I left them on the night bus).

Now, back to the Charleston. Where did I leave my boater?

three zero premieres at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern on Tuesday February 3rd, Doors 7 pm, Tickets £5.00 – visit www.reevescorner.co.uk/threezero

Leee Black Childers hits the House of Homosexual Culture on Friday 30 January 2009 at the Purcell Room, 7.45pm, Tickets £20 – visit www.southbankcentre.co.uk